The Mirror Found You
by Special Fangirl
Summary: Ron is the one they all fail to notice. Not anymore. Romoine, Fluff. Drabble.


**A/N: Hi Everyone! I hope you like it :) Please R &R. This is a belated birthday present to my friend. Happy Birthday Shruthi! **

Ron heard footsteps behind him, but he didn't bother to turn and look. A very familiar voice interrupted his thoughts, and he inwardly groaned. He didn't want anyone to talk to him. He just wanted to be left alone in his misery.

Ron was always the one people failed to notice. One of his best friends was the _Chosen One_ and the other the brightest witch her age. His younger sister was the one his parents longed for, and his older brothers the centre of attention. He was tired of being ignored, and sick of being treated like crap. He wasn't boring. People had no idea. The need to do something rebellious rose within him like never before, and Ron stood up to face whoever had been behind him.

"Hi Won-Won!"  
"Lavender, I..." he broke off, unable to express everything he felt.  
She moved towards him, and put her arms around his shoulders.  
He stepped back. She didn't understand, and she clearly wouldn't.  
"I told you I can't." he said wearily, and disappeared into the dormitory before she could hound him with her questions.

Harry's cloak lay on the floor near his bed. Ron picked it up, reckless ideas passing through his mind like waves passing through the tired sand of the shores. He knew Harry wouldn't mind.

* * *

The corridors of Hogwarts were comforting and familiar despite the fact that they were pitch-black. They were absolutely silent for once. He didn't mind. Silence was a companion that didn't judge, nor demand attention. It allowed him to think. He wandered around aimlessly, pondering over all the situations that had led him to this one.

Sixteen wasn't a year to be spent studying for NEWTS, or one trudged through with mountains of homework. It wasn't a year to waste his time playing a sport he was bad at, nor a time to be rejected by the only girl he had ever had feelings for. Sixteen was supposed to be magical and exciting. It was supposed to the year when you found true love, the one you spent outside in the sun, the one in which you discovered hidden talents. It was supposed to be the end of childhood, and the beginning of youth. It was supposed to be a year to experiment and to unearth the parts of yourself that you couldn't see before. And yet here he was, hidden under an invisibility cloak from someone who might catch him breaking the rules.

Ronald Weasley had never felt more invisible.

He pushed the cloak away and turned to leave when a reflection caught his eye. He had found the Mirror of Erised, or as Mr Ollivander might have phrased it, the Mirror had found him.  
His reflection had changed over the last five years. He still saw a reflection that held the House cup, but he was no longer alone. He was standing with the one he taken the stroll to forget, the one he always listened to despite all his complains. He stared at her bushy hair, her once-crooked teeth, and the sparkle in her eyes that usually meant that she'd figured something out. Ron allowed himself a moment of hope before pushing away the unrealistic dreams that were bound to swallow his newfound sense of reality, and turned to go back to the Gryffindor common room.

But she was there and for real this time. He knew she'd been studying in the library from the parchments she held and the exhaustion in her eyes. It wasn't like her to break the rules, but when she did, he knew that she went all the way to it.

They studied each other for a moment, seeming unsurprised by the other's presence in a corridor in the middle of the night.  
She knew that the moisture in his eyes wasn't a trick of the light, and he knew that her uncanny indiscipline wasn't merely a study schedule.  
"Hermione, I..." he began but she cut him off.  
"Don't."

They moved closer. He could see the dark circles under her eyes, and she could read the emotions in his face.

An indescribable relief coursed through him. She had found him. She cared, and knew that he did too.

"I'm sorry" he said, hesitantly running his hand through her hair.  
"This doesn't mean that you don't have the emotional range of a teaspoon anymore" she said, moving in before he had the chance to reply.


End file.
